


room for two

by thedisasternerd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: All you need to know about this fic is, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Pining, Sharing a Bed, That's It that's the Show, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, but mostly romcom-esque pining, by the way this isn't a mission fic, cody's just confused, friendly reminder that obi-wan is stupid and cody's emotionally constipated, general stupidity, hand holding, i am a Slut for hand holding we have established this, it's officially gay to stare at your commanding officer at any time, obi-wan's idiotic thought processes, that my 'oh no there was only one bed...' thing decided to grow minimal plot, these two are disaster gays, they go on a date okay let them have that, they'll get there don't worry, this is a 'how many stupid situations can these two get into' fic, when is he not come on, with a tiny bit of action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedisasternerd/pseuds/thedisasternerd
Summary: "There's only one bed." Cody says flatly. "Again."Obi-Wan peers around him and yes, pushed into an alcove of the dim, sully room is a rathernarrowdouble bed. Still wider than the bunks of theNegotiator,but narrow for two individuals nonetheless - unless said individuals don't mind being in each other's personal space, or ending up half on top of each other. Or just. Don't mind touching. Or are acouplewho tend to do those sorts of things because they're, well, acouple.Which he and Cody decidedly (unfortunately,his traitorous mind supplies) are not.---Cody and Obi-Wan are on an undercover mission, and for some reason, they have to pretend to be married. It appears that the pining will increase exponentially for the next week.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 113
Kudos: 729





	1. in which everything goes wonderfully wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I HAD TO. I COULDN'T NOT.
> 
> This is a stupid thing because these two are stupid. I hope you enjoy them being idiots around each other.

"There's only one bed." Cody says flatly. "Again."

Obi-Wan peers around him and yes, pushed into an alcove of the dim, sully room is a rather _narrow_ double bed. Still wider than the bunks of the _Negotiator,_ but narrow for two individuals nonetheless - unless said individuals don't mind being in each other's personal space, or ending up half on top of each other. Or just. Don't mind touching. Or are a _couple_ who tend to do those sorts of things because they're, well, a _couple_. 

Which he and Cody _decidedly_ ( _unfortunately,_ his traitorous mind supplies) are not. 

Kote and Ben Mereel, though? Happily married for two years and still flirt in public, making increasingly inappropriate come-ons at each other as the day progresses. Well, "Ben" does. "Kote" tends to grunt and only occasionally brings out the salacious retorts, which always leave his, ah, _husband_ , reeling (in other words, Obi-Wan is left blushing and spluttering by the fact that Cody can and will casually drop in double entendres, and _smirk_ while he does it). But they definitely have some sort of acrobatic sex every night, or so Obi-Wan likes to think. 

_A man can dream._

"Well." Obi-Wan ducks around an immobile Cody to stand in the corner of the room, spinning round to grin cheerfully at his morose commander. "Part of the job description, _darling_."

Cody glares at him, then flushes and mumbles something (was that _huttese?_ Bastardised with mando’a? Who knew Cody was so... _creative_ ) under his breath.

“Unfortunately, my dear commander, I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not my mother was a slut, nor can I say who my father was, but if he was a Jedi, I’d be concerned as to why I wasn’t informed.” Obi-Wan teases. Cody goes an interesting shade, like his face can’t decide if he should pale or blush. 

“Sorry, sir.”

Obi-Wan looks at him, a little pityingly.

“It’s alright, Cody. I’ve heard worse.”

Cody huffs, lips twitching up as he follows Obi-Wan inside, hesitantly shutting the door behind him. 

He doesn't start making incredibly transparent excuses (“scoping the building”, _really_ _-_ like they hadn’t done that ten times already) and backing out of the room to flee the scene, like he did last time. 

(Obi-Wan had ended up falling asleep, alone, on the table. The next morning saw him tucked up into the bed with Cody sitting awkwardly on the only chair in the room and sipping from one of two cups of caff. He'd thrust the second into Obi-Wan's hands and buried his face in his own, seeming almost _shy._ While Cody is taciturn by nature, he is also a sarcastic _bastard_ at times, and Obi-Wan knows that the other CCs (Cody’s batchmates) refer to him, albeit affectionately, as a “bitch”. But he'd had none of his usual _dastardly_ humour then and proceeded to grant Obi-Wan only the most dry and monosyllabic replies to anything he said. It had been one of the most awkward mornings in Obi-Wan's life, with Cody also avoiding eye contact on top of everything else. They hadn't even slept in the same bed, much less engaged in _extracurricular activities_ , and Obi-Wan has had some _incredibly_ awkward morning afters.)

This room isn't large, but is mostly empty, save for a grubby table, two chairs, and a suspiciously stained armchair. The carpet, too, is scuffed and burned, and Obi-Wan honestly can't tell if the splodges are decorative or actual blood/other unpleasant bodily fluids. He'll avoid stepping in them anyway. 

The walls are grey and the one opposite the entrance has a long, thin window stretching across it. The neon lights of Coruscant's flyways do nothing to improve the room's ambience. There’s a second door - no doubt leading to the bathroom - in the left hand wall, by the alcove.

The space is questionably hygienic, but not overly awful. They’ll manage. Cody being there with him made it significantly more bearable, even though one of them will have to sleep on the floor, by the looks of it. Obi-Wan could probably curl up in the armchair, but he has no desire to be cramped in the morning, so he’ll take his chances with the carpet. 

"You can sleep on the bed, Cody." Obi-Wan says firmly, eyeing the floor with no real anticipation. He's slept in and on worse, though, so he'll be fine. "I'll take the floor."

Cody gives him a _look._

"No, sir, it's fine-"

" _Really_ , Cody." Obi-Wan insists. "I'll take the floor. I slept in the bed last time."

Cody flushes again, which is odd but endearing and a facet to Cody that he hasn't seen before. Cody's usually _suave_ and impassive, but the past two days while they've been following up threads, playing a couple of dealers with Separatist leanings, he's been unusually awkward around Obi-Wan.

He might be laying it on a little thick with the flirting, but unless it's making Cody uncomfortable - he asked Cody multiple times if he was okay with it and he insisted that he was fine - he really doesn't see the cause. Maybe it's the lack of armour, or the edge of an undercover mission - Cody is a master tactician, but he himself prefers a much more direct approach. He was the one to start the Ghosts' signature dogpile maneuver, after all.

"I can take the floor, sir." Cody repeats, this time firmly, swinging his pack off his shoulder and setting it down on the floor. 

"Cody-"

" _Sir_ ." Obi-Wan practically cries with relief - that's Cody's _resist and I will shoot you down_ tone, complete with his trademark flat, incredibly unimpressed look, the one that either makes Obi-Wan smile or instills fear. "I'm taking the blasted floor. You. Will take the bed."

Obi-Wan makes a face at him and Cody glares back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"We could potentially." Obi-Wan coughs awkwardly and Cody narrows his eyes suspiciously at him. _Here goes._ "Share the bed. It seems to be the middle ground."

Cody eyes the bed, then Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan can practically _see_ Cody measuring and analysing the distances. 

"Are you sure?" He asks. There's a flush climbing up his neck again. Obi-Wan can feel his own face getting hot, and the absence of his beard practically ensures that Cody will notice. “I’m not sure that we’ll, uh, fit.”

“Better than both of us ending up on the floor out of stubbornness.” Cody looks thoughtful, but then again- "Of course, if you're uncomfortable-"

"No!" Cody exclaims. Obi-Wan stares at him. “It’s. I’m used to it, but - are you?”

Obi-Wan blinks, taken aback at the concern. He’d thought - that he was making Cody uncomfortable. Now he’s just not sure and back to confused again.

“I’m fine, Cody.” Obi-Wan frowns. “Really, if you-”

“The vod’e do it all the time, sir-”

“Obi-Wan.” He blurts, and Cody pauses, looks at him questioningly. “For the mission and besides, we’re off duty, technically. And we’ll be sharing a bed, so you might as well drop the formalities.”

“Obi-Wan, then.” Cody says slowly. 

Obi-Wan smiles tentatively. Cody's eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Now that that's settled." Obi-Wan takes his own pack off his back, setting it down next to Cody's. "Shall we eat?"

Their dinner is a quick, quiet affair, sitting companionably next to each other on the chairs.

They'd stopped by at one of the cleaner looking establishments and bought a couple of wraps and other drinks, as well as a couple of nutrient bars for Cody, who needed the extra fuel. The man himself had been so bewildered by the choices that Obi-Wan had almost panicked at the raw, borderline _painful_ and somehow inexplicable emotion in his commander's face. He was leaking it through his shields, too, and it made Obi-Wan’s teeth and back of throat ache oddly. 

Cody had ended up grabbing something at random - banthameat and some kind of Chandrilan vegetable in Tatooine flatbread - and then picking two flavours that probably sounded the least like standard-issue ration bar. It was oddly adorable as well as concerning, the sheer _confusion_ rolling off Cody in waves making his heart hurt. 

(Once he has the chance, he’s taking as many of the troopers as possible out to have proper food, not the synthetic nutrient mush and ration bars they’re used to. Going with Cody to Dex’s sounds like a good idea, too...)

They'd ended up having a good natured argument about drinks, with Cody trying his best to stop Obi-Wan from getting that bottle of sugary caff that wasn't really caff but more stimulant sludge (sugar, caffeine and cream. Obi-Wan never claimed that he didn't have a sweet tooth). He'd gotten his way, though, and it was almost funny to see the horror on Cody’s face when he drank the entire bottle in thirty seconds flat, then snagged a bottle of chilled tea for later. Cody had gone for water and blue milk, warily eyeing the neon blue packaging before sighing and picking it up.

Now, he's sipping it cautiously - but then his face clears and he takes a longer drought, blinking in surprise. Obi-Wan hides his smile behind the rim of his bottle of cold Alderaanian tea.

He's already finished eating his own food, so once he's done with the tea he crumples up the wrapper from his, well, wrap, and elegantly (or so he hopes) pokes it into the bottle. The next step is to start refolding the napkins he's brought, since he doesn't want to leave Cody to eat alone, for some reason.

Meanwhile, Cody seems to be having a gastronomic experience, nibbling awkwardly on the nutrient bar - it's bright pink and the label proclaimed it to taste of _Nabooian Strawberries._ Obi-Wan's had Nabooian strawberries, and the sharp smell of the bar doesn't exactly remind him of them. Cody doesn't seem to be particularly bothered, though, and finishes it quickly, licking his lips in a brief but hypnotising motion.

"So how was that for Underworld food?" Obi-Wan asks.

Cody nods, and then says: "Better than rations by a parsec, s- Obi-Wan."

He's blushing again, not quite looking at Obi-Wan. That must be a really fascinating groove in the table, then. Obi-Wan rubs at his mouth to hide his smile and is sharply reminded of his lack of beard.

He sighs. It’s late, and he’s tired.

"Would you like to ah, _experience_ the bathroom first, or shall I?" 

Cody's fingers twitch around his bottle of blue milk.

"You can." He quirks a lopsided grin at Obi-Wan and the hideous amounts of sugar he'd had earlier must still be circulating through his blood because his heart starts beating faster and harder. "I've got to send a report anyway."

Obi-Wan nods and slips away quietly, snatching up his sleepwear (essentially just a loose long sleeved shirt and trousers) before making his way to the bathroom. 

It's surprisingly clean, which he's grateful for, the mirror free from limescale. The surfaces look _clean_ and _hygienic,_ too. He doesn't trust the appearances though. A lot can be done with a bottle of certain highly illegal substance - which can be easily obtained here, in Coruscant's glittering, grimy Underworld.

He looks at himself in the mirror and feels incredibly _strange_ without his beard. It'd been worse in the moments after he'd first shaved it off, though. He'd felt like he should also trim his hair and reach behind to flick his padawan braid onto his chest, completing the picture. He's not exactly old, but the beard adds several years onto his appearance: he looks awfully _young_ without it and very, very different. It's like a mask has been peeled away and now he has to be careful about what he shows. Maybe that's why Cody was all but staring at him for the past two days, because he looks a) ridiculously young and b) his face gives away too much, now and c) the novelty of him, well, not having a beard.

He supposes if Cody did something like grew a beard, he'd also be staring (maybe for different reasons, though). 

He sighs and tears his eyes away from his own reflection, cursing his inability to be a good Jedi (he feels fake - he knows all too well that he's the Order's poster boy, the ideal Jedi, a symbol, his face slapped onto posters and billboards, but he doesn't feel like he's the person everyone thinks he is), and begins his usual routine.

He steps out of the bathroom to find Cody bent over his commpad. The man looks up at him - and double takes.

"Is there something wrong?" Obi-Wan frowns, looking down at himself. 

Ah right, his shirt is a bit lopsided. He twitches it down, suddenly all too aware of his lack of layers. Even in civilian clothes, he’d been wearing several layers, but now he’s in his too-big and worn out sleepwear and he’s committed himself to sharing a bed with his commander. 

It’s going to end in Cody being even more awkward around him or embarrassment. Most likely both.

"No sir, I mean, Obi-Wan." Cody’s eyes are wide and Obi-Wan has no idea what’s going through the man’s head. “Just. Surprised. I’ll, uh, go and wash up-”

He scrapes his chair back, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste, and makes his way over to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Obi-Wan sighs and rubs at his face, staring at the space that Cody’s just vacated.

He’s making Cody uncomfortable, it’s obvious. He likes to think that he’s Cody’s friend - he _is_ , Cody said so himself - but he’s also Cody’s commanding officer, and they’re on a mission. They’re essentially at work. 

His own feelings don’t matter. He’s letting them grow a little too wild, and if he’s not careful, they’ll take him over. If there wasn’t a war on, he’d leave the Order, because by now shoving them into the Force isn’t working - he catches himself thinking of the bright gold of Cody’s eyes, the swirl of his scar, the gentle warmth of his hand on Obi-Wan’s arm, the way a tiny smirk will make his lips quirk before it grows into a genuine smile that makes his eyes crinkle and his scar tighten. 

He wonders what Cody’s hair would feel like between his fingers, the thick curls kept in shape by a regulation haircut. He wonders, sometimes, how Cody would love - patiently, quietly, or like a tamed fire caged by strict regulations? 

He wonders, and hates himself for it. If he were lucky enough for Cody to feel the same - how could he sanction it? He doesn’t outrank Cody by that much, but the distance is still there. The troops are essentially born into slavery, too, and the thought of Cody doing something because he thinks Obi-Wan wants it makes him sick. Besides, there’s a war on. It wouldn’t be fair.

But it doesn’t really matter. He is Cody’s commanding officer and his friend. Nothing more. And he’s making Cody uncomfortable, too.

Sharing a bed, _really_. Cody deserves a good night's sleep, which he obviously forewent yesterday. 

He sighs and makes his way over to the armchair, grabbing his cloak along the way. A flick of his hand and the overhead lights dim down. He sighs again and settles down into the armchair, which is unpleasantly squidgy and creaks ominously, but spacious enough for him to tuck his legs up to his chest and curl up comfortably enough. He drags his cloak over him, burrowing into its heavy warmth. 

He can’t quite close his eyes, yet, so he stares at the opposite wall. The city lights glimmer, distorted, on its surface. Aside from the sound of the shower running, the quiet thrum of the flyway is the only thing he can hear. If he reaches out with the Force, there are steps outside, the hotel’s other residents scurrying back to their rooms. The Force itself is relatively quiet, and he can feel Cody’s presence, warm like sunlight, not too far away. The usual darkness clouds his vision at the edges, but when he’s around Cody, it seems less prominent, only a distant shadow. All the troopers are bright in the Force, but some more than others. Cody’s not quite _brighter_ but - warmer, like a tepid tide in a freezing stream. Obi-Wan can’t help but cling to that. 

“Obi-Wan?” 

Cody’s voice snaps him out of his trance. He must’ve fallen into one without realising, and he can’t say how much time has passed. 

He twists around, smiling helplessly at the way Cody says his name, still.

“Yes, Cody?”

“We agreed to share the bed.” He says, tone accusing. _Ah_. “Why are you trying to sleep in the armchair?”

“I didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable.” His fingers curl tighter around his robes. “I’m sorry, Cody-”

“Bantha fodder.” Cody snaps. Obi-Wan flinches. “No, Obi-Wan. You’re not sleeping in the armchair. Get in the bed. We’ll manage. Get in, or I’ll carry you, and that’s,” he pauses, face working, and then does the most exaggerated parody of Obi-Wan’s Coruscanti drawl, “ _undignified_.”

Obi-Wan huffs, but doesn’t protest. Cody crosses his arms and glares at him until Obi-Wan acquiesces and gets up, draping his robes over the back of the armchair before making his way over to the bed. 

Cody continues glaring until Obi-Wan is curled up under the covers. Then, he crosses over to the other side of the bed and gets in beside Obi-Wan, so that they’re pressed up back-to-back.

Their sleepwear is thin, so Obi-Wan can feel the hot, hard line of Cody’s back against his own. He’s all firm muscle and Obi-Wan _knows_ the width of the man’s shoulders is obscene, and for good reason; Cody’s very much hands-on in his fighting style, so where Obi-Wan can claim to be lithe and wiry, Cody is...heavyset to say the least, all easy strength and bulky muscle. He runs hot too, it seems, heat almost _radiating_ off of him. It’s distracting, and Obi-Wan is _so close_ to turning over and clinging to his commander like a lost tooka in a patch of sunlight. He doesn’t though. But even so, he can’t help but squirm, trying to get comfortable - and nearly falls off the bed.

Cody snorts behind him and sits up with Obi-Wan, the duvet pooling in their laps.

“Miscalculation.” Obi-Wan mutters, eyeing the floor. “I’ll take the armchair, there isn't enough space-”

Cody sighs.

“If you lie on your side,” he starts in a very matter-of-fact tone, and oh _dear_ , he’s going to be terribly pragmatic about all of this. It’s going to be the death of him, Obi-Wan knows. “You can have your back to my chest and it’ll, uh, we’ll take up less space?”

 _Here lies Obi-Wan Kenobi, died from the suggestion of being cuddled by_ _the ~~love of his life~~_ _his commander._

“That.” Obi-Wan manages, hating how weak his own voice sounds. He clears his throat awkwardly and prays that he’s more coherent. “That sounds wise, Cody.”

He’s grateful to Cody for not saying anything as he settles back down into his previous position. There’s a pause and then Cody is very, _very_ warm all up his back. There’s a tentative arm over his waist and Obi-Wan barely muffles a tiny, strangled sound. 

_He’s being spooned by Cody._

_Force._

“Is this alright?” Cody asks, sounding a little embarrassed. His breath is hot, ghosting over Obi-Wan’s neck and his hand is seeping warmth through the shirt covering Obi-Wan’s stomach. 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan wriggles a little and he’s pretty sure he imagines Cody’s quiet intake of breath. The mattress creaks. “Of course.”

“Okay.” Cody whispers. Obi-Wan shivers. “G’night, Obi-Wan.”

“Good night, Cody.”

He’s not going to be able to fall asleep like this. Not with Cody hugging him, or the way his chest expands and contracts against Obi-Wan’s back with every breath, air puffing over the sensitive skin of the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. The sheer _warmth_ cocooning them both is making him melt, despite everything, and he relaxes into Cody, who hums and tightens his grip on Obi-Wan’s waist, almost sleepily.

He suddenly and vaguely remembers midday. He’d been looking around for a chute to put his rubbish in, and Cody had been, now that he thinks about it, staring at his face. 

“There’s foam on your face.” His commander had blurted, and his eyes darted up to hold Obi-Wan’s gaze, and they’d stood there looking awkwardly at each other next to the door, while so many other beings milled around them. It’d almost been like they’d been in their own bubble.

Obi-Wan had swiped blindly at his face, but Cody had frowned and stepped impossibly closer, playing his part (they could’ve been being watched, Obi-Wan’s mind supplied) to the point of putting a tentative hand on Obi-Wan’s hip, the small touch sending tingles arcing across Obi-Wan’s body and pooling at the bottom of his spine. 

“Not there.” He’d murmured, and reached up and brushed the corner of Obi-Wan’s lips, a brief press of calloused fingertips. “Here.”

The same fingertips curl into his hip bones now, gently, almost a loving caress. It hurts.

 _I can never have this_ , he thinks, and falls asleep embarrassingly fast.


	2. how to kill a man and get yourself a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck is a plot, I don't know her.  
> have fun with more stupidity, and pining, and no plot >:)

Cody wakes up feeling very, very warm.

He quickly realises why: there's someone draped over his chest. 

It's Obi-Wan. For some reason, he just _knows_ it without thinking too much about it, even before he remembers everything: the night before, the odd sadness in Obi-Wan's eyes when he'd looked at Cody. The way he'd tensed up and then abruptly melted into Cody's embrace, breathing evening out quickly as he fell asleep. The tickling feeling of his hair against Cody's face, the toned muscle under his shirt, the narrow v of his hips, the soft rise and fall of his chest. Although Cody had fallen asleep pretty quickly, he'd managed to find patterns in the freckles dusting the back of Obi-Wan's neck. 

He'd had to sit up at some point to straighten the covers out, and Obi-Wan had muttered something in his sleep, then turned over to wrap himself around Cody. Theoretically, he'd known that Obi-Wan moved around a lot in his sleep, and tended to toss and turn for a long while until he actually _fell asleep_ \- they'd shared a tent often enough for him to know that. He _also_ knows that Obi-Wan is pretty much a tooka, and loves to bask in heat and generally be _warm_ , hence the sheer number of _layers_ that he wears. 

It seems like Obi-Wan had decided that Cody was a good source of warmth (Cody knows he runs hot) and proceeded to curl around him. It's adorable, really. How he'd grumbled sleepily until Cody had lain back down, his head pillowed on Cody's chest. Cody hadn't been able to resist brushing that soft ginger hair off his forehead, letting his fingers linger on Obi-Wan's skin before yanking his hand away, burning with shame for all but taking advantage of someone who not only didn't but _couldn't_ return his feelings.

He sighs. 

The past two days have been... interesting. He can't quite handle Obi-Wan flirting with him, too used to the Jedi turning his attention, beguiling smile and damn blue eyes on other beings. But all of Obi-Wan's razor focus had been on _him_ and he had to spend far too much time coming up with suitably lascivious comments to fire back at his "husband". He hopes Obi-Wan didn't notice quite how true they rang, but it was always worth it to watch Obi-Wan splutter in surprise, a blush starting high in his cheeks.

The lack of a beard is also incredibly... distracting. Obi-Wan's jawline is a work of art to say the least, and his neck and throat are almost elegant, like, _well_ , art, and Cody can't help but stare. It’s gotten to the point that Obi-Wan's actually noticed him staring, and the Jedi is almost hilariously _not_ self-aware, for all his flirting and playful comments, so his ogling must be getting blatant.

To make matters worse, Obi-Wan has chosen to wear skin tight leggings paired with space traveller boots, and that in itself is bad enough. But what's even _worse_ is the _chakaar_ smuggler's jacket on top of a black turtleneck, both of which make Cody's head spin. It's all a bit too much.

He's aware of his _feelings_ for Obi-Wan. They're based on the fact that Obi-Wan is just - a wonderful being, and loving him is as easy as breathing to Cody - not like he was _made to do it_ , but rather he was given a choice and he made the right one. 

Obi-Wan is kind, altruistic to the point of self-sacrifice, and willing to die for the people he loves, and that might just be most of the galaxy. Obi-Wan isn't a tactical _genius,_ but he learns from his mistakes and nearly always thinks everything through, prioritising the troops' lives over success, which Cody admires - he’s heard the horror stories, has been on the receiving end of prejudice, and he’s so glad that Obi-Wan considers them all _individuals_ and certainly _not_ expendable. Cody’s been there to see him vehemently defend their rights, on one notable occasion giving up on negotiations halfway through because the representative was being... _disrespectful_. The 212th hadn’t been able to stop talking about it for days after that, their gratitude and awe towards their general overflowing, and it hadn’t helped that seeing Obi-Wan getting angry for the first time had been quite the sight.

Then, there are Obi-Wan’s habits, passions, his quirks. Obi-Wan lives off caff, but much prefers tea, sighing wistfully every time it’s either mentioned or he manages to get himself a cup. Cody doesn't know why he likes the stuff so much, it tastes like flavoured water, which isn't really his thing. But tea is, well, not in the rations, and Obi-Wan flatly refuses to spend anything on himself. The only personalisation in his rooms is a plant, which turned out to be named after a character from a play by a great Alderaanian poet (Cody was still hung up on the fact that Obi-Wan had _named a plant_ ). The plant's name is "Mercutio" and when Cody had asked about it, Obi-Wan had started explaining _theatre_ and _poetry_ to Cody - he really was passionate about it, but it was obvious that he had no-one to talk about it to. Cody was only glad to find out more about the galaxy and general culture, so he was a willing listener. 

_After the war,_ Obi-Wan said, eyes bright, _I'm taking you to see a play, Cody._

He'd fallen even more in love with Obi-Wan, then, watching his eyes light up. Obi-Wan had been gesturing expansively with his hands, his sleeves dangling around too-thin wrists, and there was a simple _joy_ pervading him, something rare and very, very beautiful.

Cody was left with an odd tightening in his chest. Then, a week after their discussion, he'd found a stack of holonovels on his bunk, with a hastily scrawled note on top of it: " _I hope these are to your liking, Cody._ "

It had been unsigned, but it was like traces of Obi-Wan still lingered all over the objects. Besides, he was the only one who could've a) left them there and b) would've known. 

The simple action had made the back of his throat feel weird. He'd finished the entire collection in just under a week, rushing paperwork to get back to it, and staying up far later than usual just to read more.

Obi-Wan had walked in on him reading once, and there had been a soft but sad smile on his face when Cody had finally noticed him. The next week, there’d been a new selection of holonovels, Cody read them all, and the process repeated itself until he knew he’d read all the holonovels in Obi-Wan’s collection, the one Cody later found out he kept in boxes under his bunk.

It was later that Cody realised that he was, well, _in love_ with Obi-Wan. He'd gotten drunk with Fox, and the man had clued him in on _far_ too many things concerning emotions. Fox, for all his general bitchiness, was actually surprisingly helpful about all of it, rubbing Cody's back when he finally gave in and broke down, crying into his drink.

He hadn't been able to look Obi-Wan in the eye for a few days after that, and it had taken him another week to come to terms with the fact that despite what he felt, he could never act on his desires. He'll never be able to hold Obi-Wan in his arms, or kiss him, or do what his mind whispers to him when he's in bed or in the fresher, or wake up in the morning with Obi-Wan next to him.

But the universe really seems to have it out for him, so he's getting a taste of something he'll never be able to have.

Now, Obi-Wan isn't really next to him, but rather _on_ him. He's still sleeping, breathing deep and steady. Cody's on his back, with his arms around Obi-Wan's waist. The Jedi's face is smushed into Cody's shoulder, and his hair is brushing Cody's chin. He's got one hand on Cody's right shoulder, and his other arm is under Cody's back. Their legs are tangled...and…

_Osik. Absolute. Kriffing. Sith hells. Bantha fodder._

The Force-sensitive bastard must sense that he's conscious/agitated and shifts, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath and then settling back down, hands curling a little tighter around Cody. Cody hisses through his teeth and drops his head down back down onto the pillow with a soft thump.

_Son of a kriffing Hutt._

Cody screws his eyes shut and swallows. There has to be a way out of this without waking Obi-Wan up. 

He starts by gently and reluctantly unwinding his arms from around Obi-Wan. Then, he sits up slowly, turning onto his side and freeing Obi-Wan's arm-

And his general wakes up.

_Little Sith hells._

Obi-Wan blinks owlishly at him, then goes bright red. With the whole lack of beard thing, it's painfully obvious. 

He doesn't move though, and they stare at each other for a few seconds before Obi-Wan scrambles off him, blushing furiously. Cody sits up, his own face too hot. 

"Good morning." Obi-Wan blurts, then winces. 

_Haar'chak. This is going to be a bad day._

* * *

"So how long have ya been at it?" 

Cody tries not to bristle. They've managed to track down the main weapons dealer, a Nautolan who has none of general Fisto's easy charm and pleasant character. Cody's only using general Fisto as a frame of reference because he's the only Nautolan Cody's met. 

This one is called Jok Trasted, apparently. His skin is more yellow than green, which can't be healthy, and Cody tries not to breathe in the acrid smell of spice that emanates from Trasted. He knows that the man is a dealer of _that_ osik as well as weapons, and suspects that he’s an addict too. That would explain both the smell and the unhealthy look, as well as the fact that his eyes are beginning to go milky white.

From the intel they've gathered on Trasted, he was involved with the Trade Federation (Cody cannot express in words how much he hates bureaucrats), and the invasion of Naboo. Obi-Wan had gone oddly pale at the mention of the latter, and Cody made a note to avoid that particular topic. 

There's also a list of _incredibly dangerous_ beings Trasted has been suspected to employ. The list is as long as Cody's arm, and all the names are of infamous killers with Separatist leanings. Trasted himself hasn't gotten his hands dirty - until now, if they play their cards well. 

It had been tough as banthahide to track the slimy son of a Hutt down. The Underworld is a large, complicated place, and one wrong step would’ve gotten them back to square one, their covers blown, or even worse, killed - or sold into slavery, or other _fun_ things. It’s not as easy to disappear, or reappear, here as everyone seems to think - there are overlords who know everything, who and where you are, and information can be traced back in seconds - all without these moguls moving from their dens.

Trasted is one of these criminal overlords. A former bureaucrat and politician, he disappeared a few years ago. No-one asked many questions, as he wasn't particularly important - or so it seemed. Now, he’s a financial backer for the Separatists, as well as controlling a lot of the underground weapons deals that go on in the Republic’s heavy underbelly. From the week they’ve spent hunting through the streets and back alleys, neon grime and lost souls all, they’ve discovered that Trasted is also a - _demagolka._ Not only is he on his way to monopolising weapons dealing, he’s _also_ taking over the spice trade, and - worst of all - it seems like he’s started to dabble in slavery, too. 

Last night, when they’d been curled up in the bed they had to share together, Obi-Wan had been shaking with anger and sheer _grief_ as they discussed their findings, the building full of broken bodies and dim eyes in the darkest hole they could find. 

Obi-Wan had been so close to breaking them all out, his eyes wide with rage that he disguised as awe. Behind the back of their informant/guide, a simpering Clawdite, Obi-Wan had grabbed Cody’s fingers and gripped them so hard that Cody had, for a second, been scared that he would break them. But instead of pulling away, he’d rubbed the back of Obi-Wan’s hand with his thumb and dimly heard Obi-Wan’s suppressed, shuddering exhale. 

They hadn’t let go of each other’s hands after that. After a few seconds Obi-Wan had relaxed his grip and Cody had tangled their fingers together instead, feeling the fine bones of Obi-Wan’s hand, the cold callouses of his fingertips, their rough palms (both lightsabers and blasters left callouses, apparently) pressed together. 

_I’m going to find whoever is responsible._ Obi-Wan whispered to him, that night, _I’m going to find them, Cody, and I’m. I’m going to. I’m going to annihilate them.  
_

The words had sent a shiver of icy heat through Cody’s veins, and he’d tightened his arms around Obi-Wan, almost involuntarily.

_Me too, Obi-Wan. Me too._

Eventually, they were led right up to Trasted himself, having been courteously _invited_ by one of his minions. _Kote and Ben Mereel, aspiring Underworlders_ , she’d called them, eyes big and scared. 

And then, the hunt was on.

 _Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur_. Obi-Wan had spat the next morning, two hours before they were due to arrive at the address they’d been given. 

_Today is a good day for someone else to die_.

 _Oya._ Cody had grinned back, and he knew he’d been showing all his teeth in his “rathtar smirk” (as Rex called it), which was usually enough to terrify even the most battle-hardened seppie. Obi-Wan hadn’t even shuddered, just smirked back, fixing his blasters on his belt.

The building they found was fairly nondescript, buried deep in the spice zone of Coruscant, where the sunlight never reached. The interior, however, was as glossy and pristine as any of the richer buildings, with a scared twi’lek girl behind the counter directing them to the lift once they gave her their names. 

They’d stopped at the wrong floor, and Obi-Wan had barely managed to whisper _get ready_ before they stepped out and were, for lack of a better word, ambushed. They’d ended up fighting off a hoard of Trasted’s guards, wearing the same red and black uniform as the poor twi’lek downstairs (he wondered how many slaves there were in this building alone). 

Obi-Wan had managed to not use the Force, and instead used his entire body, taking down one minion by dropping on them from on top and shooting another in the face, using the lavish ornaments on the walls as footholds to bodily launch himself at their opponents. It had been a torturous five minutes for Cody, mostly because he kept getting distracted by Obi-Wan's thighs, not because fighting off the minions had been hard.

They’d then been shown through several sets of doors by a droid, to Trasted’s office, it seems, where they’ve been sitting silently for a good few minutes, sizing each other up.

Trasted is the first to speak, with that vulgarly worderd question, _how long have you been at it._ So on top of everything else, Jok Trasted is also an invasive wastoid, and now that they've passed his initial test(s), it seems that he's gotten onto life history and personal questions.

Cody wants to shoot Trasted through the head. Obi-Wan might share the sentiment, but he's playing Ben Mereel far too well, sprawled out beside Cody with a languid smirk on his face. He's dangling Kote's dog tags ( _Kote_ is one of the first generation of clones, who were issued with those things. Cody's glad the Kaminoans didn't bother with future generations - having a chain around his neck would've been a little too much like a slave collar) between his fingers and has his legs crossed one over the other, a picture of easy, dangerous grace. 

"How long?" Obi-Wan drawls. He's dropped his usual posh Coruscanti accent, and his voice is rougher, almost distorted, and Cody doesn't like it. This isn't Obi-Wan. This is Ben Mereel, future war criminal. "Oh, two years. We've been married for six months. Best two years of my life, Mr. Trasted, believe me."

Cody nods in silent agreement. Trasted eyes him, and Cody knows what's going on through his _chakaar_ head: _piece of meat, made to die, fleshy battle droid._ _Slave._

He avoids grinding his teeth together and glares at the _sleemo_ sitting opposite him. Then, he turns to Obi-Wan and bends down to whisper in his ear.

"Spare compartment, wall to left." He's quiet enough that he knows Trasted won't hear, and will probably assume that they're talking about something else. To complete the intended picture, he slides his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, then lets it drop down to curl possessively around Obi-Wan's waist.

Trasted hasn't reacted at all, but his smile has gotten a little more oily and his eyes are oddly blank.

Obi-Wan shivers, but taps twice and draws a circle on Cody’s leg (“yes, I see”). 

The back of Cody’s neck is still prickling, so he decides to play things up a bit, give them more time and an opportunity to communicate, so he leans down and murmurs _this is a trap_ into the exposed skin of Obi-Wan’s jaw. 

Obi-Wan stifles a gasp but taps twice on Cody’s thigh again.

Cody takes his mouth off Obi-Wan’s neck, making a mental note to apologise profusely later (Obi-Wan’s blushing again), but then there’s something moving in the corner of his eye-

He slams Obi-Wan into the floor just as a blaster shot ricochets through the empty hair where they were sitting half a second ago. 

Obi-Wan swears under Cody, and, oh, he’s pinned the Jedi to the floor. After a check to see that there aren’t any other dangers, he rolls to his feet with his blaster in his hand, Obi-Wan following suit. 

Trasted is still lounging in his chair, but his eyes keep darting left, and Cody can _just_ see a slight bulge in the garish wallpaper. If he’s not wrong, Trasted is one of those ex-bureaucratic types who have enough paperwork to fill a star destroyer, which he uses to wrangle his way into higher social circles. More money, and the Republic “reeks” of corruption, according to Fox, so Cody can’t say he’s surprised. 

If Trasted has paperwork, the case against him is as good as done. All they have to do is bring the sleemo in warm, or cold. 

“Terribly sorry.” The nautolan says glibly - and pulls out a... _lightsaber?_ Little _sith hells,_ they’re not going to get out of this without breaking cover, if it hasn’t already been broken. “Just a check to see if you were as good as you’re said to be, Master Jedi and Marshal Commander. But do tell me how to turn this thing on.”

_Kriff._

“You’re mistaken.” Obi-Wan’s voice cuts his tirade of swearing short. The Jedi is making a pretty quick recovery, unlike Cody, but Obi-Wan had to leave his lightsaber at the Temple and if Trasted decides to wave that thing around, they’re pretty much dead. Lightsabers are dangerous in the hands of a Jedi, but Cody knows that when someone unpractised is using one, it’s often even _worse_ , because they a) aren’t held back by any code and b) flail around wildly with it and destroy everything. “We’re no members of the GAR.”

“Is that so, general Kenobi?” Trasted smirks, and the lightsaber in his hands hums to life as he finally finds the right button to press. The blade is bright yellow. “And marshal commander, I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Kote Mereel.” Cody insists, and this is useless, they might as well shoot the bastard in the head and be done with it. But Obi-Wan thinks it’s best to keep up their bluff, so Cody will follow his lead.

“Kote…” Trasted is gripping the lightsaber too tightly, and Cody has _so many questions_. “Cody, is it?”

Cody is about to protest, but Obi-Wan puts a hand on his arm and straightens out, tightening his grip on his blaster.

“Very well.” He’s back to his Coruscanti drawl. Game over, they’re done playing now. “Jok Trasted, you are under arrest by Republic law, for multiple charges of treason, owning slaves and possession of illegal substances. Now _do_ put the lightsaber down before you injure yourself with it.”

“You wouldn’t attack me, though.” Trasted mocks. “You can’t shoot me, it’s against your scum laws, Jedi-”

He drops like a trill with a hole in its wing. Cody sighs and puts his blaster away.

Obi-Wan stares at him.

“That was fast.” He says. Cody shrugs, feeling far too satisfied. “All we had to do was wait for the backup to arrive!”

“We have five minutes until they turn up, give or take.” Cody watches as Obi-Wan bends up and switches the lightsaber off before it can burn a hole in the floor, plucking it out of Trasted’s loose grip. “Oh, and, it was a stun bolt.”

Obi-Wan pauses, and pokes at Trasted, whose chest isn’t moving. _Oops._ Cody must’ve forgotten to change the setting.

“A rather unfortunate accident.” Obi-Wan sounds _pleased_. “You’re terribly sorry, aren’t you, Cody?”

“Awfully sorry, Obi-Wan.”

“Well.” Obi-Wan picks his way over to the wall they’d been examining before, and grins at Cody over his shoulder. “That’s settled, then. Now, about the evidence…”

He activates the saber and traces an outline in the wall with it. He waits for it to cool before digging his fingers into the charred edges, tearing an entire chunk of the wall away. 

Cody moves over to stand behind Obi-Wan and peers inside.

“Here’s all the evidence we need.” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching inside and taking out several packets of hybrid spice, dropping them to the floor in disgust. He roots around inside and hauls out a block of flimsies, then starts raking out tags and slave chips.

It all forms a pile of incrimination on the floor. Cody feels his lip curl - but there are lots of questions floating around his head.

"I wonder how he figured us out." He says instead.

"I think he knew from the start." Obi-Wan sticks half of his body into the crevice and his voice is muffled by the metal walls of the safe. Cody takes a step back and fixes his gaze on the wall. "He probably wanted to lure us in, then take us hostage. He was too arrogant for his own good, though, and hadn't counted on you. His kind tend to underestimate the vod'e."

Cody snorts.

"It's a good thing I'm no Jedi." 

“Indeed, my friend. And a _very_ competent soldier, I have to say."

Cody tries not to preen.

"I think that’s it.” Obi-Wan re-emerges from the safe, hair sticking out at wild angles as he drops the last load of paperwork onto the floor. They narrowly avoid getting tangled together, with Cody having to take another step back. “From this particular stash, at least-"

There are steps outside the room, in the corridor, and they both freeze. It can't be backup, not that soon, and they'd have commed. Cody can count at least five pairs of heavy footsteps.

"Quick." He hisses, grabbing Obi-Wan's stupid smuggler's jacket and dragging him towards a small door behind the desk. It opens to reveal a tiny closet and he pushes the quietly protesting Jedi inside before going in after him and barricading Obi-Wan in with his body, slapping a hand over his mouth to make sure he _stops talking_.

It's dark, and cramped, and this is the bed sharing all over again because Cody's pretty much pinned Obi-Wan into the corner, except they're face to face and Obi-Wan's eyes glitter in the tiny sliver of light that gets in through the hinges. And Cody's hand is one Obi-Wan's mouth and his lips are stupidly soft-

Cody ignores the way his heart is rattling inside his ribs, and the less than appropriate way they're pressed up against each other, and strains his ears.

The footsteps are in the room now, prowling around, stopping (probably by the body) and Cody reaches for his blaster with his free hand. Only then does he notice that Obi-Wan is trying to tell him something, wriggling a little, but by then it's too late.

The door to the closet swings open to reveal Fox - and behind him, Thorn, Thire and Grey. Jek is kneeling by the body, but looks up inquisitively to stare at them.

Cody and Obi-Wan don't move, and neither does Fox. After a few beats of silence, Fox coughs awkwardly, as if to cover a snigger.

"Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?" He asks innocently, raising an eyebrow.

Cody swears and jerks away from Obi-Wan, falling into a pile of clothing. Obi-Wan gives him a dirty but flustered look and steps out of the corner, straightening his clothes out. He's blushing furiously, _again_. 

Cody wants to space himself. Pronto.

* * *

"That was, uh." Cody starts, his bucket tucked safely under his arm. "A success."

Obi-Wan is back in his tunics, one hand tucked into his robes, the other stroking his chin habitually. He's got stubble now, and it’s possibly even _more_ distracting. 

Their mission had been a success - in a relative sense. With Trasted’s bad (well, good for them, not so good for him) habit of keeping paperwork, the roots of so much _corruption_ and heinous crime had been exposed. The Guard is still on the hunt for a list of _government officials_ , but Cody has a sinking feeling that all of them will get off scot free. Fox has been grumbling about the lack of proper justice for those _types_ for a long time, and Cody can’t help but agree. He knows Obi-Wan and a few other senators - Amidala and Organa, mainly - have been pushing for a fair system for a long time, on top of the Cloned Sentients’ Rights Bill. He’s grateful to them. 

In terms of mission aftermath, there was some residual awkwardness between him and Obi-Wan, but it quickly faded away, even though neither of them mentioned any of the many _Incidents_ that had occurred. Like the kissing (it was for the mission but Obi-Wan _must_ have sensed his attraction) and bed sharing. And general cuddling. And everything else, like hand holding.

Cody still really, _really_ wants to kiss him. And hold his hand. And curl up around him before they go to sleep, and hold him through his nightmares. Cody wants to eat the surprisingly delicious Underworld food with Obi-Wan, wipe the foam from the Jedi’s favourite nightmare stimulant mixture called “bottled heaven” off the corner of his mouth and watch his eyes (soft with something Cody was scared to name) dart all over Cody’s face, a flush starting high on his cheeks, wants to kiss him with the taste of blue milk still in his mouth. He wants to know what would’ve happened when he, ah, _woke up in a predicament_ and had been able to kiss Obi-Wan senseless and maybe, _maybe_ -

He just _wants_ so bad. 

Obi-Wan looks up at him with his stupid sparkling eyes, and grins, a tiny little thing that makes Cody’s heart melt. There’s _something_ in his eyes, something soft with razor edges, glowing bright.

And Cody wonders, maybe, if they have a chance.

“We seem to be on leave, commander.” Obi-Wan tilts forward a little, and there are freckles on the bridge of his nose, under his eyes. “Would you like to accompany me down to get food?”

“I thought you’d missed the ration bars, Obi-Wan.” Cody teases.

The Jedi makes a face at him.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, Cody.” He sighs, twisting his hands into his robes and he seems _nervous_. “But really, I know a place. I think you’ll like it. Would you do me the honour?”

Cody swallows. _Is this what he thinks this is?_

“Of course.” He smiles, and Obi-Wan brightens impossibly. “Meet me at the docking bay, I just need to change into civvies.”

Obi-Wan salutes him lazily.

“Very well.” His mouth turns up even more on one side, and his smile goes lopsided, something flickering through his eyes before they go steely with resolution. 

Obi-Wan presses a quick kiss to Cody’s cheek, then turns on his heel and hurries off.

"Wait!" Cody calls, voice hoarse, his fingers ghosting over his cheek. 

Obi-Wan pauses and turns around, eyes wide and nervous.

"Is this." Cody swallows, but holds Obi-Wan's gaze. "Is this a date?"

Obi-Wan shrugs jerkily, stepping forward, closer to Cody.

"Only if you want it to be."

"Yes." Cody blurts, and Obi-Wan's ears go red as his eyes brighten. "I mean. I do. Want it to be. A date. Yeah."

"Well then." Obi-Wan reaches up and puts his hand over Cody's, on his cheek. "It's a date, my dear."

He slides his hand away slowly, trailing goosebumps over Cody's skin, then moves away, over to the turbolifts.

He turns around, once, while he's waiting for the turbolift, and Cody meets his gaze. Obi-Wan smiles, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

Cody is breathless as he grins back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left!!! should be up soon, a week ish :)


	3. a Talk, and holding hands over the table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought writer's block for this, so I'm sorry if it's not the best. But have some fluff, y'all! These two finally got their date.

Obi-Wan takes them to Dex’s. He hasn’t been there in a long time, and seeing Dex is always worth it. It’s amusing to watch Cody bristle and then relax at the sight of the Besalisk practically crushing Obi-Wan. Then Dex had switched his keen gaze over to Cody, eyeing him speculatively before turning to Obi-Wan and giving him a lopsided smirk.

“This your  _ friend _ , Obi-Wan, eh?” 

Cody had gone a  _ fascinating  _ shade of red as Obi-Wan wrangled Dex into one of the booths. They’d ended up chatting idly for about twenty minutes, Dex dropping them the odd tidbit of information. Cody had managed to fight his blush back under control, his face going professional and calculating as he listened to Obi-Wan and Dex’s back-and-forth, obviously taking in any and all useful information. It was a stark reminder that the war was everywhere - every moment they had was precious.

After the customers really started to arrive, Dex slipped away back to his domain behind the counter; Cody and Obi-Wan were alone together.

By now, they’ve been sitting in Dex’s place for about an hour, mostly waiting for their food to be ready and talking idly about everything, from poetry (Obi-Wan will take Cody to the library, when they have the time - so tomorrow) and culture (Bail had been saying something about theatre? Much as Obi-Wan hates the obligatory schmoozing with Very Important Beings) to teasing friends (specifically, Anakin and Rex) and mocking politicians. 

Cody looks at him - in a way that Obi-Wan isn’t used to. He looks at Obi-Wan with something bright in his eyes, and the Force sings with it, peaceful waves rocking them, lulling them with safety, soothing in its lightness. Obi-Wan is - at peace, with Cody. And Cody, too, seems tranquil, a soft smile gracing his features, softening the hard lines and worried furrows that have toughened his exterior. 

When their food arrived, their conversation hadn’t dwindled, instead turning to new topics, mostly joking about ration bars and a few stories about the vod’e’s experience with non-regulation food. 

But Cody’s been silent for a few minutes, now, and since they came here to eat, Obi-Wan took the opportunity to finish his food and get onto his tea - he’s really missed the stuff, and it’s not the chilled synthetic stuff he had last week.

“So.” Cody says suddenly and takes a thoughtful bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly while he thinks over what he wants to say - it’s the way his face goes a little blank, nose wrinkling a tiny bit and his eyes narrowing. Obi-Wan hides his smile behind his hand and hums questioningly into his paper cup of tea, watching Cody's ears go a little red as he stares at the table.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at Cody's prolonged silence - his commander almost always knows exactly what to say, since he prepares it all meticulously (Obi-Wan finds Cody's impromptu speeches rather adorable, to be honest). Now, though, he seems almost... anxious, and Obi-Wan's heart skips a worried beat. 

“Uh. Just.” Cody makes a face at the table.

“Take your time, dear.” Obi-Wan says fondly. Cody grumbles something unintelligible under his breath and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand.

“I wanted to ask.” Cody looks up at him, and Coruscant’s bright lights reflect in his eyes. Around them, Dex’s diner is busy (it’s evening after all), but it once again seems like they’re in their own little bubble. “Why. Why did you...decide to, er, disregard the Code, for, well,  _ me _ ?”

Obi-Wan frowns and is about to open his mouth and reply before Cody backpedals, mouth twisted into an anxious line. 

“No, I meant - you’re Jedi, and you could get expelled from the Council for this, and I know you’re - a Jedi first and foremost, and-”

“Cody.” Obi-Wan interrupts, reaching over to put his hand over Cody’s, which is clenched into a fist on the tabletop. Cody’s breath hitches and looks away but relaxes, allowing Obi-Wan to gently tangle their fingers together. “I-”

Cody’s eyes are frighteningly luminous in the dirty-yellow lights of the diner, glowing a muted gold, wide and honest and just this side of  _ scared _ as he looks at Obi-Wan. His grip tightens on Obi-Wan’s hand, fingers digging into the grooves between Obi-Wan’s knuckles. Obi-Wan in turn squeezes Cody’s, rubbing a soothing thumb up and down the side of Cody’s hand.

“I decided.” He blows out a breath and smiles at his - partner? Boyfriend? “That you, my darling, are - much more important to me than the Code ever was.”

Cody blinks at him, but stays silent. 

“I understand.” Obi-Wan pauses, stares at Cody, who looks back, patient as ever. “That my duty is to protect the galaxy at large first and foremost - as is yours. But - I’ve been raised to believe that  _ attachment  _ leads to the dark side, but there is, I find, a difference between  _ love  _ and  _ attachment _ . Attachment is - possessive, while love is, for the most part, altruistic. I am not  _ taking  _ you for myself in any way - instead, I am giving myself to you, in a way."

There’s a brief, heavy silence. Cody’s eyes are blown wide and he’s staring at Obi-Wan like he’s just flung a previously locked door wide open, all awe and amazement.

Obi-Wan takes in every little detail of his face, the way his hair is starting to grow past the regulation standard, making it curl a little. The whorl of his scar, stretching the skin around it a little, raised pink over dark sugar. The almond shape of his eyes, the way his brow furrows slightly before clearing. The calluses on his hands, the tiny scars almost everywhere on his skin, some raised, some sunken, most just tiny silver lines. His knuckles are particularly scratched, what with his stupid habit of  _ punching droids _ , really, and Cody calls  _ Obi-Wan  _ reckless. He’s beautiful, he’s  _ unique _ , like all of his vod’e - but there’s just  _ something  _ about him that Obi-Wan can’t put his finger on.

Maybe it’s Cody’s Force signature, steady and warm, like a sun. Maybe it’s his smile, or his eyes, or his voice. But most likely, it’s Cody’s entirety - his habits, his memories, the experiences that he and Obi-Wan have shared. 

It all leads to this, and although Obi-Wan wishes that they met and lived together in so many other ways, what they have - he wouldn’t trade it, ever. But he does want to tell the Code to go kriff itself, sometimes. 

“In other words,” he says slowly, watching Cody watch him. “The Code can go, ah,  _ kriff itself _ .”

Cody barks out a genuine laugh, hand tightening around Obi-Wan’s, and then the sort of complicated but content expression is back on his face. His eyes glitter and Obi-Wan can’t look away from him, from the tiny,  _ tiny  _ curls around his face, the minutiae of his face: the dark details of his eyelashes, the swirls in his irises, the slightly scruffy lines of his eyebrows, the tiny slice across the bridge of his nose, his lips, curved up just slightly.

“Oh.” Cody is scrutinising him too - the thought sends a shiver down Obi-Wan’s back, something warm and electrifying pooling at the bottom of his spine (he can’t help but wonder at what Cody sees). But there’s a smile slowly breaking out (like a sunrise) over Cody’s face and Obi-Wan doesn’t care about anything else anymore. Cody almost seems  _ wondering  _ as he looks at Obi-Wan, soft and gentle and something  _ more _ . Then his smile turns toothy and Obi-Wan can’t help his own chuckle. “I’d never thought of it like that. And I won’t tell anyone you swore, Obi-Wan, promise”

“Thank you, Cody. I must preserve my austerity and dignity, I’m afraid. And as for the Code - neither had I, I must confess.” Obi-Wan admits to that ruefully. He’s still angry at himself for not condemning the “no attachments” part of the Code sooner - if it had caused others as much pain as it had caused him, then... “But it is what it is, my dear, and - I am giving myself to you, if you’ll have me. It seems - a year and a half of knowing you was more than enough for me to, ah, fall in love with you.”

He’s not exactly - blind to Cody’s own feelings anymore. Once his eyes were opened - he suddenly  _ saw  _ all of Cody, the love he’d been holding close to his heart, never intending to show it. He saw the way Cody looked at him - not like Satine had, no, not quite. It was something uniquely  _ Cody,  _ tentative and awkward but strong as durasteel. 

Obi-Wan has always loved nurturing things, which is why he loves plants so much. This love is fully grown, but it has yet to bloom, and Obi-Wan wants to watch it do so, wonders what colour the blossoms will be. He thinks white and ochre; it’s such a lovely colour combination, one close to his heart at any rate. 

Maybe he should get a couple of plants...

“Yeah.” Cody blurts and his eyes are suspiciously shiny. Obi-Wan’s heart stutters and his fingers flex around Cody’s hand. “And. I. I think. I love you too-  _ ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, balyc. _ ”

Obi-Wan just...  _ looks  _ at him, breathless, his throat too tight. Cody stares back, then lifts their joined hands and brushes a soft kiss across Obi-Wan’s knuckles, smiling.

The Force sings and Obi-Wan - he is at peace. The future seems so much brighter now, because for the first time in a long time, he actually  _ has  _ a future, with Cody.

_ With Cody,  _ he thinks.  _ With Cody. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can I hear a wahoo? we got to the end! my love to y'all, the support for this fic has been overwhelming and I love y'all so much uwu

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback y'all can give me is greatly appreciated! I love y'all, and thanks for reading.
> 
> I exist on tumblr [here](https://thedisasternerd.tumblr.com/), so come yell/chat with me!


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